Page 99 of XOXO

“I’m saying, people do strange things to protect their hearts. But when you’re afraid, your heart is closed, and it’s never theright time, but when your heart is open, and you’re willing to be brave enough to take a chance, the time is always right.”

“I think I made a mistake, Uncle Jay, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

“That’s not true. You know exactly what you need to do. You just gotta... go.”

“Jenny, after your audition and reviewing your portfolio, we’re pleased to offer you a verbal acceptance into the Manhattan School of Music.”

I gape at the admissions director, who’s watching me with a warm smile of understanding. I’m sure she’s used to witnessing a similar shocked expression on the faces of the students she delivers happy news to. This is the culmination of all my hard work, everything I’ve ever wanted.

“Professor Tu, our cello professor,” she continues, “is taking a few students to dinner in a few minutes, if you’d like to join her.”

“I—what time is it?”

She blinks, glancing at her wristwatch. “It’s a little past five thirty.”

“Then I’d be honored to join the professor for dinner.”

The dinner is at an Italian restaurant on the Upper West Side. It’s served family-style, much to my excitement. I’m already in awe of Professor Tu, who besides having taught in Asia and Europe, has also been a member of award-winning ensembles.

The students also seem really cool, especially the girl seated next to me who’s a sophomore studying contemporary cello and the boy across from her who wants to be a composer.

The conversation at dinner flows and, honestly, I’d have lost track of the time if I wasn’t so conscious of it. Six o’clock passes, then seven. At half past seven, I’m chomping at the bit, literally chomping on a piece of garlic bread. Everyone’s having a great time. The few students who are old enough are on their second bottle of wine. When the waiter comes over, the professor asks to see a dessert menu.

“Are you all right?” The sophomore girl has a concerned look on her face.

I stand up abruptly. All eyes at the table turn toward me. “I’m sorry,” I say, “but I have to go.”

“Of course, Jenny,” Professor Tu says. “Do you need someone to ride with you back to your hotel?”

“I’m not going back to my hotel,” I say, and I don’t know what possesses me to further explain, but I add, “I’m going to a K-pop concert.”

“You should have said sooner!” Professor Tu exclaims. “Concerts wait for no one.”

“Is it XOXO?” the sophomore girl asks. “I love them.”

I stare at her, then the rest of them—every expression is either warm or curious. I remember Ian and the way he’d made me feel as if my love for Korean pop music meant I couldn’t be serious about attending the Manhattan School of Music.

“This isn’t... weird?” I ask.

“Weird?” Professor Tu looks genuinely shocked. “No, why would it be? It’s music and we’re all musicians. You’d better hurry. You don’t want to be late!”

“No, you’re right.” I smile at her, then at the rest of the students in turn. “I don’t want to be late.”

I rush out the door, waving my hand vigorously for a cab, leaping inside when one pulls over.

A single thought repeats over and over in my head.

Please don’t let me be too late.

Forty

Traffic is at standstill outside Madison Square Garden, so I abandon the taxi at 36th and 7th and run the last few blocks.

In the cab, I’d sent a message to FWOJ:

On my way to Madison Square Garden. Wish me luck.

The replies come in from my friends, hyping me up:

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